Rude Bitches Make Me Tired: Slightly Profane and Entirely Logical Answers to Modern Etiquette Dilemmas by Celia Rivenbark Page A
Authors: Celia Rivenbark
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few years ago, that you would see people holding signs saying THANK GOD FOR BREAST CANCER ! as we did at Elizabeth Edwards’s funeral? Being civil, returning deliberate, thoughtful responses to the crazy people is exhausting, isn’t it?
I don’t even know why someone would want to run for office. In a survey, fewer than half the people interviewed on the street knew the name of the vice president. And I’m not talking about an old dead vice president like the one who served under Zachary Taylor Swift. I’m talking about the one who lives at 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Washingtonville.
Not only did they not know his name, a scary number thought that there were only fifty-two U.S. Senators and members of the House. Total. I suppose the thinking is one per state with a couple around as understudies in case somebody is too sick to perform that day or perhaps two Miss Congenialities.
It must be frustrating to spend $500 million to win an office only to discover that the average citizen doesn’t know your name. You’d be better off changing it to Bob Evans, so at least people would say, “Love your stacked-and-stuffed hotcakes. Your Honorship.”
Question: I think that so-called push polling is the height of rudeness, not only because of the nature of the questions but also because they call only at dinnertime.
I know, right? And I love the way they say, “This won’t take long, maybe thirty or thirty-five minutes.” Honey, you have no idea what I, and every mom I know, can get done in thirty-five minutes. It is staggering.
Push-polling is a dreadful—but dreadfully effective—political strategy. To those of you who don’t know what it is, here’s how it works.…
POLLSTER:
Would you vote for Candidate A if you knew that he wanted to gamble with the financial security of your children and grandchildren?
YOU:
Huh?
POLLSTER:
It’s true! And did you realize that Candidate A juggles dead puppies for his private amusement? Hmmmmm? He also wants to ship your job to China. Oh, and he wants you to pay twelve dollars a gallon for gas.
None of this is true, of course, but it sits in the back of your mind and marinates until you regurgitate it to someone else and they tell someone else and so forth until it morphs into “sorta fact.” If you have the time, you can have some fun with push polls. For instance, if they go to the gas scare, say, “I’m so relieved to hear that. I’ve long thought that Americans shouldn’t be paying roughly one-third as much as Europeans for gas. Don’t you agree?” I’ve used this tactic more than once with pseudo-charities that call regularly.
PAID FUND-RAISER FOR RIP-OFF “CHARITY”:
Wouldn’t you agree we need better fire prevention education in our schools?
ME:
Heavens no! How else are our young American arsonists going to learn if not by experience?
See how easy?
Question: My friends ask me whom I’m going to vote for in every election. I think this is rude because I was raised to believe that voting is a private matter. Isn’t that why they have those curtains around the voting machines, after all?
I guess so, but to me, those curtains are kinda weird. They look like really poorly designed dressing rooms. I’ve often thought it would be high-larious to close the curtain and then take off enough clothes to freak people out. When the bra hits the floor of the voting booth, that would be so funny, am I right?
I always leave the curtain open because I am proud of whom I vote for. This curtain business makes it seem like voting is something that should be done in the dark and is somehow secret and shameful, like attending an Adam Sandler movie.
But, of course, you are right. It’s ill-mannered at best and nosy at worst to ask someone whom they’re going to vote for. I’m happy to put up yard signs and even knock on doors for a good candidate (back in the ’70s, this was rewarded with what we called “bong hits”), but not everyone is eager to
I don’t even know why someone would want to run for office. In a survey, fewer than half the people interviewed on the street knew the name of the vice president. And I’m not talking about an old dead vice president like the one who served under Zachary Taylor Swift. I’m talking about the one who lives at 1313 Mockingbird Lane, Washingtonville.
Not only did they not know his name, a scary number thought that there were only fifty-two U.S. Senators and members of the House. Total. I suppose the thinking is one per state with a couple around as understudies in case somebody is too sick to perform that day or perhaps two Miss Congenialities.
It must be frustrating to spend $500 million to win an office only to discover that the average citizen doesn’t know your name. You’d be better off changing it to Bob Evans, so at least people would say, “Love your stacked-and-stuffed hotcakes. Your Honorship.”
Question: I think that so-called push polling is the height of rudeness, not only because of the nature of the questions but also because they call only at dinnertime.
I know, right? And I love the way they say, “This won’t take long, maybe thirty or thirty-five minutes.” Honey, you have no idea what I, and every mom I know, can get done in thirty-five minutes. It is staggering.
Push-polling is a dreadful—but dreadfully effective—political strategy. To those of you who don’t know what it is, here’s how it works.…
POLLSTER:
Would you vote for Candidate A if you knew that he wanted to gamble with the financial security of your children and grandchildren?
YOU:
Huh?
POLLSTER:
It’s true! And did you realize that Candidate A juggles dead puppies for his private amusement? Hmmmmm? He also wants to ship your job to China. Oh, and he wants you to pay twelve dollars a gallon for gas.
None of this is true, of course, but it sits in the back of your mind and marinates until you regurgitate it to someone else and they tell someone else and so forth until it morphs into “sorta fact.” If you have the time, you can have some fun with push polls. For instance, if they go to the gas scare, say, “I’m so relieved to hear that. I’ve long thought that Americans shouldn’t be paying roughly one-third as much as Europeans for gas. Don’t you agree?” I’ve used this tactic more than once with pseudo-charities that call regularly.
PAID FUND-RAISER FOR RIP-OFF “CHARITY”:
Wouldn’t you agree we need better fire prevention education in our schools?
ME:
Heavens no! How else are our young American arsonists going to learn if not by experience?
See how easy?
Question: My friends ask me whom I’m going to vote for in every election. I think this is rude because I was raised to believe that voting is a private matter. Isn’t that why they have those curtains around the voting machines, after all?
I guess so, but to me, those curtains are kinda weird. They look like really poorly designed dressing rooms. I’ve often thought it would be high-larious to close the curtain and then take off enough clothes to freak people out. When the bra hits the floor of the voting booth, that would be so funny, am I right?
I always leave the curtain open because I am proud of whom I vote for. This curtain business makes it seem like voting is something that should be done in the dark and is somehow secret and shameful, like attending an Adam Sandler movie.
But, of course, you are right. It’s ill-mannered at best and nosy at worst to ask someone whom they’re going to vote for. I’m happy to put up yard signs and even knock on doors for a good candidate (back in the ’70s, this was rewarded with what we called “bong hits”), but not everyone is eager to
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